


Draco Malfoy and The Detention That Saved His Life

by RedellaRed2001



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Future Healer Draco Malfoy, M/M, Madame Pomfrey literally fixes everything, Top Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 07:40:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14637207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedellaRed2001/pseuds/RedellaRed2001
Summary: All he had to say; was that maybe (just maybe) this was worth that fight with Weasley.





	Draco Malfoy and The Detention That Saved His Life

  
"Mr Malfoy," Pomfrey called, "Give Mr Corner a Calming Draught and then you may go down to dinner."

Draco was not enjoying himself. In fact, he would probably be having more fun trying to talk politics with Vincent - and Vincent couldn't even remember the Minister's bloody name. It was at this point that he was extremely regretting getting into that fight with the Weasel. While it was hardly his fault Weasley had an overtly large nose, he probably shouldn't have started fighting with him in the middle of the halls: near McGonagall's classroom no less.

It was that fight that got him landed with detention in the infirmary. Three weeks of it! It was a recent thing, apparently, having infirmary duty added to the detention rota. Another bright idea of Dumbledore's, he was sure. The man was absolutely mental; although Draco supposed you had to be to think boring your students half to death was a good punishment for fighting.

Mostly, the only people in the infirmary were Madame Pomfrey and Draco himself. Despite Hogwarts being a magical school, therefore having a wider range of things that could land you in the infirmary, it had appeared that most students were able to avoid such visits - something Draco was enternally grateful for. Over the past five days of Draco spending all his free time doing whatever Pomfrey told him to there'd been a total of two students that visited the infirmary, and they only stayed for twenty minutes.

Unfortunately his peace didn't last long. This morning, Michael Corner was carried into the infirmary by two of his fellow Ravenclaws. He looked freaked out, but otherwise perfectly normal. Apparently the idiot managed to spell all the bones in his left arm away when practising charms in their common room and had absolutely no idea how to fix it.

Moron.

Pomfrey had put him on a bed and sent Draco to fetch the Skele-grow from the potions cupboard. Corner had been in here ever since, the bones in his arm slowly - yet quite painfully - regrowing. Draco had hoped he'd be gone by the time Draco came back for his lunch hour, alas fate had not been so kind to him.

As much as Corner irritated the shit out of him, Draco could feel the hunger setting in and wanted to get down to dinner before his stomach did something embarrassingly undignified like rumble. He grabbed the Calming Draught from the metal) table ( _why_ the woman needed a small metal table _with wheels_ on it, he didn't knowand made his way over to Corner. 

He held out the potion. Corner didn't take it. 

Oh, right. Corner had no bones in his left arm. 

"Tilt your head slightly." Draco instructed, and though Corner looked very displeased about it, he did as he was told. Draco uncorked the potions bottle and brought it to the other boy's lips, "Are you ready?" 

At Corner's slight nod, Draco tipped the bottle up slowly so he could drink from it without choking. Not that Draco cared much if Michael Corner choked to death, but they were in an infirmary and the reasons for said choking would not be hard to figure out. 

Once the bottle was empty, Draco pulled back again. Corner's eyes glazed over; his mind obviously fogging from the effects of the Calming Draught. Draco rolled his eyes at the sight before he span around to walk away from the boys' bed.

Madame Pomfrey was stood just to the right. She surprised him a little as he hadn't heard her come over but he tried not to let that show. She had a small smile on her face and her hands folded across her front.

"Very good, Mr Malfoy." She said quietly: the wway she said it made Draco feel as though he'd done something worth comending but he wasn''t quite sure what that was, "Off to dinner with you, then. I trust I'll see you afterwards."

Draco didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

By the time he got to the Great Hall he was beyond hungry. He made his way to the Slytherin table as quickly as possible and slipped into his usual seat between Blaise and Pansy. Neither paid him any mind. Pansy was far too interested in the gossip section of Witch Weekly and Blaise was far too interested in seeming indifferent to everything around him. The prick. A golden plate and golblet materialised in front of him. He reached across for the jug of water and poured a considerable amount into his goblet. 

Daphne Greengrass was chatting loudly, again, about god knows what happened at lunch earlier on that day. The sond of it sent a wave of irritance over Draco. He was getting so tired of missing out on interesting things because of bloody detention. The fight with Weasley had caused a serious dampen to his social life and he wasn't pleased. Not one bit. He looked up from his plate to survey todays pickings for dinner. Merlin he hoped it wasn't shepards pie - he couldn't stand shepards pie. 

Though as he did so, he was met with Greg pushing a jacket potato onto his plate. Draco raised an eyebrow at him, yet he just shrugged and placed the bowl of jacket potatoes back on the table and placed the butter in front of Draco. 

"Fancy cheese?" Greg asked, nodding towards the bowl of grated cheese on the other side of Vincent. 

Draco, while simutaniously trying to ignore the drool falling from the side of Vincent's mouth as he ate, jutted his head in affirmation and reached out to pick up his goblet. He watched Gregory place the bowl of grated cheese in front of Draco as he sipped his water.

This was why Greg was his best friend, and his favourite too. 

He and Greg had been friends since they were small children, as their parents were business partners. They were always very close, and Draco could never see himself being as close to Pansy or Blaise as he was Greg. Vincent, he wouldn't necessarily call a friend. They had only met that day on the platform because Greg's father had introduced Vincent's father to Draco's, and they were much too old by then for that to not make a difference. 

Draco and Greg knew almost everything about one another, the product of growing up so close. For example, Draco knew that despite Greg's love of sll things sweet, too much choclate made him awfully sick. Greg knew lots about him too - such as jacket potato was Draco's favourite meal.

Most people assumed Gregory was extremely thick upon first glance. He looked like more of the bodyguard type, and people like Granger would never look at him as if he had anything worthwhile in his brain. Not that he did much to disuade that notion. Draco had asked him, once, why he let them think so little of him. Greg had simply replied there was power in being seen as though you're as intelligent as furniture. They all assumed he'd be too thick to understand what they spoke about, and so he had every opitunity to learn everyone elses secrets.

Anyone who thought Greg had no place being a Slytherin was the most uneducated fool ever. 

Greg was actually very smart. He took Arithmacy alongside Draco, and didn't struggle at all. Greg had always been excellent with numbers. He just didn't broadcast his brains like that bint Granger. 

"How's the infirmary goin'?" Greg asked, picking up a plate with sausages on it and grabbing his fork to move a few onto his palte.

" _Argh_ ," Draco put his goblet back on the table with a sigh, "It's positively the most irritating thing I've ever experienced. Michael Corner came in this morning and hasn't left since. The idiot spelled away his bones." Draco picked up the butter and his knife and started spreading it across the insides of hsi jacket potato.

Greg paused, a frown etching onto his face as he lowed the plate of sausages back onto the table, "All of them?"

"What?" He put the butter down, "Oh, no. Only the ones in his left arm. He's a right pain about it though. Hasn't shut up whining since Pomfrey put him on a bed." He started pouring cheese on top of the butter, pointedly ignoring the way Pansy sneered at him over it from the corner of his eye (stupid cow's got something against people eating anything with more fat than necessary in it.).

Greg snorted, grabbing the bowl of roast potatoes from in front of Blaise, "That might be because he spelled away all the bones in his arm, Draco. Surely that hurts."

"Yes but there's no need to be a pussy about it, _or_ annoying." Draco grabbed his fork and stabbed the newly decorated jacket potato on his plate with it, "How was lunch?"

Greg shrugged, cutting up the sausages on his plate as he talked, "Nothing special. Thomas fell into the fountain in the courtyard."

" _How_?"

Over dinner Greg retold the story of what Draco now deemed the most amusing tale he's heard all week, and they ate gradually throughout it. Blaise interjected with a few sardonic comments here and there, but otherwise the others kept out of their conversation. He missed having Greg around to talk to all the time. Detentions in the infirmary all the time meant Draco saw a lot less of his friend, and while he didn't want to say something as Gryffindor as he missed him - he thought that was the only explanation for his enjoying their conversation over dinner much more than usual. 

Of course, Draco made sure to glare over at Potter a few times throughout the meal on principle.

Dinner was over far too quickly and Draco was dreading returning to the infirmary. He only hoped Corner had gone. 

"I'll see you back in the common room later?" Gregory asked as they walked out of the hall, his hands stuffed in his robe pocket. He was still looking at Draco, though Vincent was halfway up the corridoor. 

Draco sighed, "I'll be in the infirmary till late. The woman's a slave driver, I swear."

Greg shrugged, fidgetting slightly on the spot, "I'll wait up." Then he was off, making his way toward the dungeons with his hands still stuffed in his pockets. 

Draco shook his head and smiled fondly - something he most certainly _wouldn't_ have done had other people been around - turning around to make his way to the infirmary.

* * *

 

"Ah, Mr Malfoy! There you are." Madame Pomfrey exclaimed loudly as he walked into the hospital wing. She was smiling at him, it was unneving.

"Am I late?" He wasn't. He made sure to never be late so they couldn't rope him into more infirmary duty.

Pomfrey moved her hand as if she was waving away a fly, "No dear, right on time as always. Grab the table and follow me, please." She span on her heels, her matron uniform puffing out a bit as she walked toward the cupboard at the back of the room. 

Draco wrapped his hands around the edge of the table and tugged it around in front of him, pushing it half heartedly as he followed along behind the matron. There wasn't much on the table, anyway, so why she wanted it was beyond him. It had a dirty cloth and a few empty botles of potions - Corner's fault, probably - but nothing of any general importance.

He'd been in this cupboard a few times since his detentions first started. It's not anything special. Potions lined the shelving units, the draws were filled with clean cloths and sheets, and there was an old bookshelf with books on healing in it. 

Pomfrey started taking the empty bottles from the metal table and placing them in the bin. She removed the dirty cloth, too, but left it on the side. She then started moving about the small room to collect fresh equipment and place them on the metal table. For the most part, she paid him no mind other than to ask him to pass her things.

Once she was done, she walked past him into the hospital wing, "Come along Mr Malfoy, bring the table." 

_Why_ exactly did he have to go into the cupboard? 

He pulled the table along behind him as he followed her. She walked through the room unconcerned, until she came to the bed closest to the door. On it laid a young girl, no older than a second year. She was in her school uniform - a Hufflepuff - but didn't look very comfortable. She was sweating ridicuously, her skin overtly pale. She was definately _not well_.

"Ah, Miss Franke, faring well I see." Draco raised an eyebrow at Pomfrey. The woman was almost as mental as Dumbledore, "Now that Mr Malfoy has returned we can get down to business." 

What on earth did she need Draco for? _She_ was the proffesional here, not him. It was hardly his fault she kept the poor girl waiting despite there being no other patients to tend to.

"Would you like to tell me what's wrong, dear?" Pomfrey smiled reassuringly, and the girl relaxed slightly.

She gulped before speaking, as though her throat were dry, "My stomach hurts. I feel really cold."

_Cold_? The gril looked like she was half a second from passing out because of the amount she's sweating. 

"Cold, you say?" Pomfrey stepped closer, lifting the back of her hand to the girl's forehead. Pomfrey frowned, "Mr Malfoy, fetch a quill and Miss Franke's chart."

Draco picked up the chart with _Miss Franke_ scrawled across the top, and grabbed a quill from the counter by the door before hurrying back to Pomfrey and the girl. When he returned, Madame Pomfrey had her wand out and was waving it above the girl's head. 

Pomfrey hummed as she worked, "Mr Malfoy, what do they sparks tell you?" 

For a minute he wondered what the hell she was on about, until he noticed the purpley sparks spouting from her wand as she waved it along the girl's body. How should he know? The sparks were definately a shade of purple, quite dark too. He hadn't studied medicine, he had absolutely no clue what that meant. 

"She's hot?" What else was he supposed to say? He figured for a guess he had no evidence for, it was possibly the best thing to say. She was obviously expecting him to answer. 

Pomfrey smiled, "Quite right Mr Malfoy," Wait, really?, "What made you think so?"

Honestly, if she was going to do this the whole way through diagnosing this girl, Draco was going to feel very _very_ sorry for poor Miss Franke He hated feeling sorry for people.

"The sparks." By the look on her face, she wasn't going to take that as an answer. Draco watched the wand for a second before continuing, "They're darker."

"Excellent!" Pomfrey nodded, turning back to the girl, "Now dear, we're going to have to get you into some thin pyjamas."

"I don't feel hot." Miss Franke said, "I'm freezing."

"That's just the fever, lovely." Pomfrey moved over to the cabinet and pulled out a set of light blue pyjamas, "Mr Malfoy, please fill out Miss Franke's file. She has the flu, I'm afraid. Not much we can do for it, other thanto take care of her until the illness breaks."

Draco scrawled ' _flu'_ in the box asking for what was wrong with her, and wrote out the symptoms the girl had described next to it. Pomfrey said there wasn't anything they could give her to get rid of it, but he reckoned they'd be giving her Calming Draughts and a few Pepper-Ups so he wrote them in the ' _medicine administered_ ' section.

"We'll close the curtains dear, give Mr Malfoy a shout once you're dressed." Pomfrey said cheerily, closing the curtains behind her and taking the clipboard Draco held out to her.

Wait, what did she mean give _him_ a shout? She's the matron! 

"Very good, Mr Malfoy." Pomfrey nodded, handing him back the clipboard and moving to unwrap the apron from around her waist, "Now, I have a staff meeting this evening. Unfortunately it cannot be missed, and so I'm going to need you to stay here and look after Miss Franke."

" _What_?" She couldn't have said what he thought she did, "I don't know the first thing about taking care of patients."

"It's not hard," Pomfrey replied, "Just be polite and administer the right potions. It''s only the flu, nothing strenuous.I have the utmost faith you'll be fine." She folded the apron as she spoke, then placed it on one of the empty beds neatly. 

"But Madame Pomfrey-"

"I'll be back to check on her during the night." Pomfrey said, "Stay with her until she falls asleep, or needs no more monitoring for the formidable future, and then you may return to your common room."

She turned and walked away befoore Draco had anymore time to protest. Honestly, what did she think he was supposed to do? He'd never looked after a thing in all his life! Well, not a _living_ thing, anyway. He didn't even have his own _owl_ , for crying out loud: Falcon was a family owl! _Draco_ certainly didn't look after it.

He was only here for detention, for Merlins sake, not to take care of her patients while she was off having a drinking match with the rest of the staff! He didn't know anything about administering potions, especially not to kids. He could give her too much, or too little, or the entirely wrong thing. This was _not_ a very responsible decision on Pomfrey's part, not at all.

"Mr Malfoy?" Oh, wonderful. She was done, and requiring care. Care that Draco wass not qualified to give her. Not remotely. 

He turned his gaze away from the door, looking towards the girl's bed to find her stood by the end of it; having drawn back the curtains by herself. She didn't look well at all. Far from it. She looked too hot, even without her robes on, and her skin was sickly pale, and she looked exactly like the scared twelve year old she would if she were sick at home. Except she wasn't at home, and she didn't have her mother to care for her. Oh no, he could feel his soul getting the better of him.

Fuck it. If he fucked it up, it would be on Pomfrey's head. he couldn't exactly leave the poor girl to her own devices.

"Madame Pomfrey's had to dash for a little while." Draco let a large smile grace his face. Kids felt more at ease when you smiled at them, he knew that for certain. You couldn't go wrong with a smile, "So it looks like it's just you and me."

She did relax more at his smile ( _hah_!), but seemed about as reassured as he was by the fact the matron had dissapeared, "Oh, okay."

"What's your name?" Draco placed her chart on the hook at the end of her bed, slipping the quill into the clip.

"Cecilia." The girl said.

"Well, Cecilia," Draco replied, "Lets get you back into bed, shall we? You need all the rest you can get."

He pulled back the covers and she climbed into the bed. Once she was in it, he pulled the covers back up and turned to grab a Pepper-Up potion from the table. She looked at him warily as he turned back around.

"What's that?" Cecilia asked, glancing down at the bottle before looking back up at him.

"This?" He shook the potion a bit, "It's a Pepper-Up potion. It's usually used for the common cold, but it'll make you feel a bit better too." He uncorked the bottle and handed it to her, "Bottoms up."

She frowned, but did as she was told. He watched as she swallowed the potion, and then took the empty bottle from her.

After putting it on the table, he faced her again, "Better?"

She smiled up at him cheekily, "A bit." 

Oh he liked a kid with a bit of snark in her. Always made things more interesting. He had a feeling he was going to need a bit of interesting to get him through this evening.

* * *

Entertaining a twelve year old wasn't as easy as you'd think. In the end he span tales about the peacocks at the manor - she seemed ridiculously interested in those - until she fell asleep to the story of the first time he met them (of course he didn't tell her about the bit where he ran away screaming, _that_ would be far too undignified). She hadn't needed a Calming Draught after all. She wasn't upset , just sick, and a Pepper-Up or two was enough to keep her sated. Well, that and the cooling charm he cast on her when she was chattering away about the horses on her family's farm. He figured, if nothign else, the cooling charm would cool her skin down enough for her to sleep with as little discomfort as possible. When she fell asleep he changed what he'd written in the ' _medicines administered_ ' section and cast another cooling charm just incase the other one wore off while she was sleeping. She looked fairly peaceful as she slept, still quite pale, but less sick altogether.  **** ~~~~

All in all, he thought he did rather well at coping with the situation he was in. He didn't freak out (bar the incident in the beginning), gave the patient the right potions, kept her entertained until she fell asleep, and Cecilia was still alive after it all. As far as he was concerned, it was a total success. 

Now he wasn't sure what to do. He didn't feel very comfortable with leaving her by herself. What if she was to wake up and be alone? She'd be terrified. He needed to go down to the common room - Greg was waiting - but Pomfrey wasn't back yet. He couldn't _leave_ her. 

His consience was becomming far too dominant in his way of thinking. 

Draco took a seat on one of the empty beds as he waited for Pomfrey to come back. He didn't need to wait long. It wasn't more than ten minutes before Pomfrey hurried back into the hospital wing. Her hair was down, and if that wasn't enough to shock Draco into silence the muggle dress would be. She looked at least five years younger like this.

She looked surprised to see him, but quickly recovered with a smile, "Hello Mr Malfoy, it all went well, I take it?" 

He nodded, glancing over at Cecilia's closed curtains, "She only went to sleep fifteen minutes ago. I gave her some Pepper-Ups, and cast a few cooling charms. I wrote it all in her chart."

Pomfrey smiled wider, folding her hands in front of her like she had earlier, "Very good Mr Malfoy. I knew you could do it. There was nothing to worry about after all, was there?"

"I suppose not." There would've been if he'd fucked it up though, wouldn't there?

"It's a wonderful thing, isn't it?" Madame Pomfrey kept her tone low as to not wake Cecilia, "To have a patient's health in your hands, and knowing they trust you not to damage it. An enlightening feeling."

He wasn't sure what she was on about, but nodded anyway. What else was he supposed to do? He had enough trouble staying calm with a kid with flu. There wasn't anything wonderful or enlightening about it.

Pomfrey smiled softly, "You don't understand yet, Mr Malfoy, but you will." Whatever that meant, "Goodnight Mr Malfoy, I'll see you tomorrow."


End file.
